Mr Fix it
by RollyMo
Summary: Lisbon finds out that Jane is good at fixing things. Ignore the rubbish summary


It was stupid. Such a pointless, meaningless thing, she shouldn't be so upset by it. Insignificant in comparison to the problems of the rest of the world.

And yet here she was, the supposedly tough as nails lady cop, who pushed her feelings down until they didn't dare reappear, was crying alone in her office, silent tears streaming down her face.

She wished she could stop, stop the shaking in her shoulders, stop the sobs racking through her body. For god's sake, what would her team think if one of them opened the door?

As if some twisted angel had heard her and granted her wish, the door slammed open and a blonde head of curls peeked round the side. The breath in her lungs became thick and painful, the tears streaming down her face. Her head was drooped so maybe there was a chance he hadn't seen, she shook her head slightly, hoping her hair would cover the sobbing wreck that was her face.

Lisbon barely heard him take the few steps from the door to stand in front of her desk, just saw the flash of his grey suit as he bent down in front of her.

"Oh Lisbon" A hand reached up to gently stroke her chin, the other resting on her shoulder, comfortingly brushing the base of her neck. As she lifted her head, cheeks wet from tears, eyes red and swollen a stab of loss shot through both their hearts. He looked into her emerald irises, moving his hand up to feel her soft silky hair.

"What happened?"

"I-I...it j-just" the sentence fell apart as she began weeping, bringing up her clenched fists to his gaze, tears spilling down her porcelain features.

Jane looked at her raised hands, the knuckles white and strained. Finally, as one finger moved and he caught a flash of gold, he got an idea of what had happened. Raising his gaze he realised what had looked so wrong with Lisbon after returning to the office. The golden cross, her mother had given to her, that always sat round her neck, she wore it every day and now it was gone.

"Oh Teresa" He pulled her small, delicate hands into his, releasing her fingers and pulling out the broken chain, a catholic cross hanging dejectedly from the end.

"The s-suspect, when I caught him, he pulled it ap-p-part" This time she couldn't finish her sentence because of the fact her face was buried in Jane's vest, the tears already soaking its way through.

Rigsby rushed through the bull pen, falling on his chair with a gasp of air.

"You all right there?" He glanced over to see Jane sitting at his own desk, a strange sight in itself, fiddling with something shiny under the bright glow of the lamp.

"Huh? Yeah man" After taking a few deep breaths he got back his strength, switching on his computer ready for a day of paper work.

"Late night?" the consultant asked as the small sound of metal clinking together rang through-out the quiet bullpen.

"Having trouble getting to sleep" he mumbled, running a hand through his hair. "What're you doing?"

"Fixing something" Rigsby thought that might have been the end of it, but no such luck. "Do you have any experience in metal craft, jewellery in particular?"

"No, sorry, I skipped that course out at the academy" the taller man joked, raising an eyebrow at Jane.

"Never mind"

Later that evening, as the sun disappeared and the night grew slowly darker, a tired senior agent walked through the deserted bull pen, feet stumbling as she fought the sleep away.

Crashing into her deserted office, considering working through the mountain of paper work that was piling up in her inbox tray but instead deciding on leaving it till tomorrow.

Bending over her desk to retrieve her purse, hoping no one was watching her, a small something dug into her stomach. Leaning back she saw an elegantly wrapped box, an extravagant white bow adorning the top, sitting on her desk innocently. Even before she opened it she knew who'd sent it, no one else would dare leave presents in her office, they'd be too scared.

Un-tying the bow, she lifted the boxes lid and gasped. Inside, lying between the folds of fabric was her cross. It had been fixed. By Jane. Jane had fixed her necklace. In fact, it looked stronger and cleaner than before. Hastily she pulled it from the box, fixing it round her neck. Her consultant had even somehow managed to sort out the fiddily clasp, which every pawn shop she'd visited had said they wouldn't even bother.

Letting it hang from her neck and feeling rush of energy that she'd been missing for the two days since it'd broke. There was something she had to do, and it concerned a blonde pain in the ass who occasionally could be rather sweet.

_A.N  
>Honestly this isn't by best work. But it isn't my worst either. I couldn't sleep last night because for some reason I kept imagining what would happen if Lisbon's cross broke or went missing. Don't ask me why, my minds a weird place. <em>

_Love Rosie _


End file.
